


Love Unrequited and Innocence Lost

by auntieomega



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst, Belly Rubs, Bloodletting, Cock & Ball Torture, Dark, F/M, Genital Torture, Hurt Loki, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Object Penetration, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad, Sexual Violence, Shapeshifter Loki, Stuffing, Virgin Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntieomega/pseuds/auntieomega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Few things in Asgard are reviled as much as men who use magic or love other men. Fifteen-year-old virgin Loki is a sorcerer with a crush on a man who doesn’t want him. When Loki uses magic and guile to get what he wants, he finds only pain and sadness.</p><p>WARNING: This is a DARK story with stuffing kink elements.</p><p>This is NOT one of my usual sweet romance stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Unrequited and Innocence Lost

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a DARK story with stuffing kink elements.
> 
> WARNING: This story contains rape and violence. If you think I've missed a tag or warning, please let me know and I'll fix it.
> 
> Note: Instead of being Loki's wife, in this story, Sigyn's his assistant.
> 
> *A plot element was lifted from Laurence Yep's novel, "Dragon of the Lost Sea."

Loki tried to calm his stomach with a trembling hand. He had wanted to be alone with Syn for months, had wanted it with the entirety of his fifteen year old heart. But beautiful Syn--with his fjord blue eyes, ice-blond locks, and wicked smile--only loved women. Beautiful, beautiful Syn—his very name meant ‘denial.’ So Loki had pined. Now, thanks to some shapeshifting and a clever ruse, they sat on the same bench in Syn’s room.

Earlier, wearing the female guise had given him courage. As the maiden Lofn, he had flirted with the muscular young warrior boldly. In Syn’s quarters, however, he felt the vastness of his inexperience. Male or female, he had never had sex before.  
At Syn’s insistence, they supped together in his room. As they drank mead, Loki thought mead had never tasted so sweet; as they broke bread, he was certain no bread had ever been so fresh. Surely no boar had ever been so succulent as the boar in the stew they shared. Syn had watched him eat like a hungry wolf stalking a deer. If he had blinked a single time, Loki hadn’t seen it.

Loki enjoyed Syn’s attention, but he didn’t think he could eat any more. While Syn’s portions had been meager, Loki’s had been much larger than to what Loki was accustomed, and his stomach felt hot and uncomfortable.

“You can’t stop now,” said Syn. “You’re only halfway through your stew.” He pushed the little table closer to Loki. “You can’t leave anything behind.”

Loki looked at the stew and the half loaf of bread and the plate of cheese and grapes and shuddered. “I’m sated. I can’t eat anymore. I’m done.”

Syn plucked a grape and moved closer to him. He held the grape to Loki’s lips. Loki accepted it with wide eyes. One at a time, he fed Loki three more grapes. “See? You’re still hungry,” said Syn, smiling his roguish smile. “Finish your stew.” When Loki balked, Syn mocked sweetly, “What’s the worst that can happen? You get a little stomachache?”

“I don’t like stomachaches.”

“If you get a stomachache, I’ll have to rub your stomach.” He glided a hand down Loki’s torso, rubbing him chest to groin.  
Loki stared at him a moment, and then began eating the stew as if his life depended on it. Midway, however, he began to flag. His stomach churned and gurgled strangely. Syn poked some cheese and a few more grapes down him. “All of it,” said Syn.

“I can’t.” Loki trembled as Syn’s hand began rubbing his puffy stomach in slow circles.

“Stand up,” Syn told him, still rubbing gently.

Loki hesitated, then stood. The thumb of Syn’s rubbing hand slid low and flicked the tender bud between Loki’s thighs. Myriad sensations sprayed through Loki’s body. He almost shifted his form. He held to his shape by a feat of will.

“Here,” said Syn, “these clothes are getting in your way.” He plucked off Loki’s dress, which had, in fact, become rather tight around his middle.

To Loki’s excitement and dismay, Syn dipped a hunk of bread in the remainder of the stew and fed it to him. Naked and standing, he ate the rest of the stew and bread while Syn rubbed his swelling belly and throbbing clit. He wished, with all of his heart, that Syn were rubbing his cock instead, but the female organ had to suffice—and it was not entirely without its charms.

Syn, still seated on the bench, held to Loki’s thighs and stared at him. Without Syn’s touch, pain overtook Loki quickly. He gasped as a terrible ache twisted through him. As he caught it with his hand, he realized his stomach was round and protruding.

With a sigh, Syn let Loki go and sat back and drank some mead. Loki took a shy step toward his clothes. “No. Stay,” said Syn. Loki obeyed, but did so miserably. He cradled his aching stomach and hoped Syn would touch him soon. He sighed with relief when Syn grabbed him by the hips and drew him near.

Instead of soothing rubs, however, Syn pressed on his stomach strangely, as if looking for something. And then he put his mouth to Loki’s clit. Loki’s breath caught in his throat as a wave of pleasure swept over him. He closed his eyes, all the colors of the bifrost behind his lids. He forgot that his stomach hurt, forgot he was naked and embarrassed. His nipples puckered and ached as his clit throbbed. He could feel it elongating as Syn’s tongue and lips seduced it.

“Oh, Syn,” Loki whispered fervently. “Syn, I love you; I love you.”

Syn bit down, hard. Very hard. Loki yelped. White-lit pain flashed through every millimeter of his body. He found himself clutching his bleeding cock and staring into Syn’s blue eyes. “Hello, Loki.” Syn smirked. “Finally decided to come out of hiding?”

Loki squeezed his wounded glans as his heart thudded in his chest. “When did you realize it was me?”

“When Lofn began flirting with me a few days ago. She left to marry a young lord in another realm nearly a fortnight past. You’d have known that if you paid more attention to court gossip instead of your musty tomes.” Syn smiled and began rubbing Loki’s distended stomach. The round belly looked even more ridiculous on him than it had the girl. At least her curvy figure had disguised it somewhat. It jutted out from Loki’s slender frame, his narrow hips emphasizing the bulbous shape.

“You’re such a greedy little thing,” said Syn, massaging Loki’s belly.

Loki forgave the inaccuracy. Syn’s calloused hands were touching him—and he was himself! This was more wonderful than he had ever hoped. “The bite startled me,” said Loki. “But, if you like that, I’m certain I could learn to enjoy it.”

“You look pregnant.”

“Do you…like that?”

Syn grunted. “Where does your stomach hurt?”

“All over.” Loki’s stomach did hurt all over, but he also wanted Syn to touch him everywhere.

“Isn’t there some place that hurts more?”

“Right above my navel. That’s where it hurts most.”

Syn stabbed there with his fingers, bouncing something hard through Loki’s body. Loki doubled over in agony, clutching his stomach. “You must have some sort of resistance to it. I’ve never seen it take this long or have to be forced into developing like this,” growled Syn.

Loki, dizzy with pain, tried to understand what Syn was saying. He could feel something moving beneath his hand. Strange clanking noises erupted from his stomach. And it hurt--it hurt terribly. Hugging himself, he sank to the floor and moaned helplessly.

Syn crouched beside him. “What’s wrong, princling? Are you going to let a little stomachache unman you?” He grinned as Loki writhed. “But then you aren’t really a man, are you? You’re a mare. Odin’s mare. Disgusting. And you thought you could trick me into bedding you, didn’t you, you filthy little beast?”

“I wanted you so badly,” Loki confessed. “I can think of nothing else. Every time I look at you--”

“But I tricked the Trickster. I scattered the links of a tiny chain into your stew. They start off tiny, but once inside, they grow and join into a spell-binding chain—an iron chain we use to subdue sorcerers for questioning. You won’t be casting any more spells tonight.” With that, he pushed Loki’s ass into the air. “You want to be fucked? I’ll fuck you.” He drew his sword from its scabbard.

“No,” begged Loki. “Please, please don’t. Please, Syn. Don’t do th--” His words turned into a strangled cry as Syn jammed the sword hilt into his unprepared hole. Flesh twisted and tore as Syn jerked the sword hilt free and shoved it in again. Loki bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. Powerless, he poured his mental resources into enduring the onslaught in silence. After a time, he surrendered that as well, crying into his hands.

At last, Syn tossed the sword aside, and removed his pants. Using only blood as lubricant, he rammed into Loki and fucked him without heat or mercy, every thrust a cruelty. He came with a grunt. As he pulled out, he gave Loki’s testicles a hard thwack with the back of his hand.

Pain flashed through Loki’s body. He curled into a ball. He didn’t realize he’d been groaning until Syn stuffed a leather gauntlet in his mouth. “Even if I did bed men,” said Syn, pulling on the gauntlet’s twin, “why would I want some scrawny wastrel like you? Hmm? A pampered reckling? I should think not.” He inserted one large, gloved finger into Loki’s raw hole. Trembling, Loki sank his teeth into his left hand. His hot skin adhered to the leather. A hard seam drug along a weeping trench made by the sword hilt. “Your brother. Now that’s a man, Loki. That’s a warrior. You’ll never be more than someone’s hole.”

“I could be king,” Loki managed.

Syn laughed. He shoved in two more fingers. Loki mewled into his hands. “Not from where I’m sitting.” Syn pushed deeper, his little finger opening a new fissure as it scraped its way inside.

“I’m a prince!” Loki cried. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Oh? And who’s going to believe you? The little court liar and his bag of tricks?” He shoved his leathered hand inside. Loki gasped and wished he would lose consciousness. He could hear the smug grin in Syn’s voice as he said, “Have you failed to notice the way Odin looks at you? That isn’t pride, Loki. That’s shame. Even your own mother. Haven’t you seen it in her eyes? Did you imagine that was love? It’s pity. She pities her pathetic son with his woman’s magic and his welcoming legs.”

For a moment, Syn’s words hurt more than Loki’s screaming flesh. Similar thoughts had whispered through his head for a while, but hearing them voiced by another made his heart clench like a fist in his chest. He didn’t want to believe any of it. But every syllable rang with truth.

“No one will believe you,” said Syn. “You will only make yourself more ridiculous in their eyes. The god of weakness. The god of cowardice.” His fingers formed a fist. “The god of submission.”

Loki lost his breath as the fist smashed into his bowels. The chain jumped inside him, its links clanking. His vision fluttered. Before he could brace himself, Syn’s gauntleted fist punched inside him again. Syn beat his insides mercilessly. Loki’s mind grasped at the intermittent darkness, seeking any reprieve.

***

Cold. He was so cold. The cold had weight to it. It filled him. Held him flat against the floor. As he opened his eyes, his injuries assaulted him. The pain almost drove him back to unconsciousness.

“Wake up, Loki. I have a surprise. You like surprises, don’t you?”

“Syn. Please. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

“We’re not done yet,” said Syn, squatting beside Loki. He pushed Loki over on his back. Loki guarded his aching, distended stomach with a weak arm. Syn smiled at him. “Your stomach still hurts, does it? This might take your mind off it.” He grabbed Loki’s cock in his gauntleted fist and tugged, letting it slide through his fingers.

Despite the wound on his glans, Loki found the experience pleasurable. To his vast dismay, he discovered the sensation wasn’t purely physical. He still wanted Syn. Still wanted to be wanted by Syn. He could even still love Syn if Syn would only give him the chance. He hardened as Syn stroked him and wished this would all turn out to be some horrible joke.

As Loki lay amid his confused feelings, a heat crept into the bite on his cock—a heat that quickly blossomed into pain. He cringed away from Syn’s touch. Laughing, Syn grabbed his balls roughly. That hurt, but the feeling of fire now consumed Loki’s entire cock. Heat flared over his scrotum. Loki tried to kick away, but Syn held him down and smeared the gauntlet up inside Loki’s ravaged hole. Loki screamed.

Syn shoved the gauntlet in his mouth. It tasted like blood and something Loki couldn’t place. “Stinging nettles,” said Syn.  
Loki’s mouth and tongue began to burn with the same fire that scorched his genitals. Syn pulled the gauntlet free and smacked Loki across the face with it. “I’m done with you now. If you breathe a word of this to anyone or if you try again to worm your way back into my life, I’ll give you worse. Do you understand?”

Blinking away tears, Loki nodded.

***

Loki lay, half out of the water, on the steps of the bath. He had managed to work the chain into his mouth and had a few links of it wound around his hand. He startled as Thor’s boots and legs appeared before him.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” Thor said gently and squatted near him.

Loki glared at him.

Thor took hold of the chain. “Are we going in or out?”

“Out!!!” Loki managed around the chain.

Thor nodded and pulled carefully, frowned, then pulled a little harder. He stood up. “Grab the edge of a step.” He pulled again, putting his back into it.

The chain snaked free from Loki’s body, bruising his throat and stomach and taking several of his back teeth with it. He writhed in the shallow water for a minute, clutching his stomach and chest, drops of his blood making little red clouds in the water. He felt Thor’s hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you heal yourself?”

“Can’t. Too much pain.” He closed his eyes and fought it. His legs beat the water as his body spasmed.

Thor grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him closer to the pool’s edge. “You look like a dying fish.”

You look like an idiot, thought Loki. As usual. But he could only breath. Thor rubbed his back. They sat together in silence, the only sound drips of water echoing in the royal bath.

With one hand still between Loki’s shoulders, Thor inspected the chain. “Is this a spell-binding chain?”

“It is.”

“These are rare. The smith who forged them died and left his secrets to no other.”

“Yes.” Loki reached out and pulled the chain closer.

“Where did you get this?”

“A…friend…gave it to me.”

“We should give this to Father.”

Loki drug the chain beneath his chest. “It’s mine. I earned it.” He glared at his brother resentfully. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be beating your chest or something?”

Thor fished a few of Loki’s teeth from the water. “Maybe Sif can use these to make you some jewelry.”

Loki snatched them from Thor’s palm. “Maybe I can use them in a spell.” Thinking of Sif reminded him of Syn. He had seen them together more than once. Laughing. Talking. Flashes of his torture brought his wet hand to his eyes.

“Loki,” Thor said in a soft voice. “Did something happen to you?”

“No,” Loki told him, somehow finding the lie as easy as others he had told. He straightened. “I was experimenting. I made an error.” He cleared his throat. “These things happen in magic. But pain is an excellent teacher.”

“You will recover?”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll be fine. In a little while, I’ll heal myself. New teeth, new me.”

***

_Two years later_

In his laboratory, Loki closed his eyes. All of the little burning ships had set sail, carrying away the latest battle’s dead. Syn’s body had not been among them. There had been nothing left of the warrior to burn. Nothing larger than a gleaming molar remained of Syn on the battlefield.

No one knew exactly what had happened to him. He had bloated, atop his horse, like a rotting corpse, and then exploded suddenly in a shower of blood and fine chunks. No one knew except Loki. And perhaps, maybe, Sigyn.

He sighed and let Sigyn undress him. She was a beauty, golden haired and tall with eyes the color of flax blossoms--and a mind as soft as her skin. He had plucked her from the kitchens and cultivated her like the royal gardeners growing roses. She loved him—perhaps as much as he had loved Syn and with just as little reward. But she loved him and had slid into Syn’s bed like a serpent. Had added Loki’s elixir to the drinking horn Syn took to battle.

That elixir had taken two years of careful research and patient experimentation. He had pulled the links of the spell-binding chain apart, learned its secrets, corrupted its magic. In the end, he had ground it, painstakingly, with mortar and pestle, into a fine powder and used it in the spell that was to be his revenge.

Syn’s death should have pleased Loki. But his traitorous heart bemoaned the loss of the young warrior nearly as much as the loss of the impossible future it stubbornly mourned, absent logic, absent hope.

Sigyn gibbered about something.

“Don’t talk,” he told her. “If I wanted intelligent conversation, I would talk to myself.”

Sigyn caressed his body with her soft hands. “I can pleasure you.”

“No,” sighed Loki. “I think not.” She wilted and withdrew from him slightly. He smiled and stroked his fingers through her hair. “But you may touch me if it pleases you.” He closed his eyes and endured her rubbing hands until he could take no more. He grabbed up his discarded belt and pulled his dagger from it. Waving it in Sigyn’s face, he said, “Take this and cut my back. Carve my skin. Draw blood.”

She blinked at him. “I can’t do that. I can’t hurt you.”

“I can heal myself. I’ll be fine. Do it now.”

“You’re a prince!”

He began to grow cross. “That’s right. I’m a prince. So you can’t disobey me.” He shoved the knife at her. “Do it now!”

She shook her head, blubbering. “No. Loki, no.”

He caught her by the nape of the neck and held the blade beneath her jaw. “Do it, or I’ll slice off your nipples and feed them to you.”

It was mostly an empty threat. He had not quite decided whether or not he should kill her to preserve his secret, but he had already vowed that if he did, it would be as painless as possible. He had no desire to harm her. But he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to be harmed himself.

Sigyn didn’t budge. Her wide blue eyes stared at him as if frozen. Loki sighed. “Please. It’s—part of a spell. You’ll be helping me.” He ground his jaw. “Do it because you love me.”

She blinked at him, then nodded and took the dagger. He turned from her and stretched his hands against the wall. He closed his eyes as the sharp edge sank beneath his skin. Sigyn drug the dagger slowly through his flesh. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Take your time.” He could feel blood running down his back, dripping, like tears, from his wounds. Pain blazed on his back like a fire, like a funereal ship aflame—a ship which carried love unrequited and innocence lost.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fic reposted from my old AO3 account.
> 
> **To anyone who is reading this and is distressed because it isn't like my other fics, I'm so sorry. This story was inspired by some research regarding ancient Norse attitudes toward male use of magic and male homosexuality, and by a vague remark Loki made in Loki Makes Amends, which I was writing at the time. Please remember that in my head, Loki and Bruce get together and are totally happy, so this isn't where it ends.


End file.
